Each nightly vision swirls about my head, as I sleepwalk through my days,
mumbling through greetings and conversations, looking for some spark to ignite
and energize, to slap me awake from this weariness that seems to bewilder me so.
Yet, I’m hopeless to express in so many words my quest for an original idea
and the strength to get it on paper. A few striking words, strung together:
one sentence to tell all. I need to begin with one sentence
to capture and slay those visions and deliver me from this inertia.
That’s the challenge, as big as a mountain before me, the challenge
I don’t want to talk about. I’d rather write and leave the talking to others.
I’d rather scratch out another poem and explore those crevices of my mind,
stretch and contort my thinking to, in someway, free me from my sentence.
— Chris George
(A few years back I wrote 10 poems that are compiled under the title: Almonte and the summer of 2013 that was. This poem first appeared in that compilation and later also found its way into Midstep: a dozen poems towards where I want to be. If you are interested in receiving either or both of these compilations, connect with me – firstname.lastname@example.org – and provide your e-mail.)